


Never Have I Ever Written a Love Letter

by wannnabesuper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Drinking Games, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Love Letters, M/M, Oblivious Sirius, Some pining, because everyone needs a bit of pining every now and again, mostly because I was too lazy to create a real au but didn't want to write the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 00:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wannnabesuper/pseuds/wannnabesuper
Summary: During a drinking game, Remus lets slip that he's written a love letter. Sirius (and an increasingly large group of friends) won't rest until they get to the bottom of this!





	Never Have I Ever Written a Love Letter

The trouble started, like so many of the group’s problems, because Peter was feeling bitter. This particular bout of bitterness was directed primarily at romance – specifically, that so many of their friends were happily in love while Peter himself had just been dumped. In an attempt to cheer him up, the rest of the Marauders were, in classic Marauder style, working at getting stinking drunk.

They were playing drinking games in an effort to keep the conversation relatively on track, as a drunken James Potter could not be trusted to keep his mouth shut about the love of his life, Lily Evans. The other three had hoped that her relatively recent change of heart would help things, but dating Lily had somehow managed to make James even sappier about her. Since hearing about successful romance was decidedly not going to cheer Peter up, the gang was doing everything they could to minimize James’s monologue opportunities.

“Let’s play Never Have I Ever,” Peter suggested.

“No, that’s for people who are getting to know each other,” Sirius complained, trying to work out how to drink from his cup without correcting his atrocious posture. “We’ve known each other since first year, it’s no fun.”

“No, that’s WHY it’s fun!” Peter insisted. “It’ll be hard to think of stuff.”

“Never have I ever been an Animagus” Remus said instantly. Sirius sulked, but took a drink once he saw James and Peter had already done so. He had to sit up after all, since his want was stowed away in the “No Drunken Magic” box Remus had gotten after James’s 18th birthday.

“Anyway, we should play what Pete wants,” James pointed out. “This is his cheering up do, after all.”

“I never get a cheering up do when I break up with someone,” Sirius grumbled, then brightened. “Never have I ever had a cheering up do!”

“One, you’ve never had an actual relationship to break up, because you don’t date so much as blithely wander through your hordes of admirers getting bored of them faster and faster,” Remus countered. “Two, your dramatics have necessitated a cheering up do over something or other at least once a month since second year. So drink.”

“Never have I ever gotten such a vicious Moony smackdown!” James crowed.

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Peter said, after having taken his drink. “No one is safe from Moony’s wrath.” James shrugged, and took a drink.

“Never have I ever… torn my clothes climbing in or out of a window,” Sirius said proudly. The other three drank.

“Never have I ever lost more than 50 house points in one go.” Remus high-fived Peter as James and Sirius drank.

“Never have I ever asked a professor to a Hogsmeade weekend,” Peter offered, and Sirius toasted the air.

“Alas, Minnie didn’t know the happiness she denied to the both of us.” He drank.

“Never have I ever slept through an exam,” Remus said, and the other three drank.

“And then slept through the makeup exam,” James added. Sirius and Peter drank.

“Never have I ever been set on fire by someone as a response to asking them out,” Sirius smirked at James, who took a drink with the dopey smile he always got when thinking about Lily. Naturally, the other three started targeting him intentionally.

“Never have I ever been turned down by a potential date in front of the entire school.”

“Never have I ever stared so obviously at my crush that a teacher had to tell me to stop.”

“Never have I ever sent so many singing valentines that the school banned them the following year.”

“Never have I ever accidentally serenaded the wrong girl because my crush charmed everyone’s hair to match hers.”

“Never have I ever intentionally crashed a broom in the hopes of ending up in the hospital wing because my crush was sick.”

“Never have I ever written a love letter.”

The last was said by Peter, and Sirius was prepared to fire another volley at James -the only one who had been drinking on all of these – but a movement at the corner of his eye distracted him. Remus had taken a drink. Which meant Remus had written a love letter.

Remus Lupin, mild, bookish Remus, who had never so much as mentioned wanting to date someone, had written a love letter. Remus, who had once under extreme duress admitted that he never expected to be loved or get married because of his “condition,” had written a love letter. Quiet Remus, who had shocked them all by losing his virginity first, had written a love letter. The same Remus whose shy but assured flirting meant he never left the bar alone, who had once yelled at James that not everyone was looking for long-term love so could James please stop pushing his own idea of happiness onto Remus, who had a strict two month time limit on his flings, had written a love letter.

Sirius abruptly realized his drink was empty and stood to refill it. He swayed as the alcohol hit him all over again, waving off questions from the other three with his empty glass. Stumbling into the kitchen, Sirius tried to make sense of what exactly was bothering him about this revelation. Was it that Remus had been in – maybe _was_ in – love but hadn’t told them? Hardly the first, or even the biggest, secret he’d kept from them. Maybe it was the idea that Remus had actually fallen for at least one of his lovers, but refused to allow himself a chance at happiness. Or possibly just the fact that there was a whole side of Remus, a love-letter-writing side, that Sirius didn’t know about. He was supposed to be the Moony expert. Not knowing things about his Moony was unacceptable.

“You good in here Pads?” The Moony in question was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, head listing like it did when he was really sauced. Sirius was vaguely aware that not taking advantage of his friend’s uninhibited state would be the decent thing to do. Naturally, decency was low on his list of priorities.

“Who do you write love letters to, Moon-moon?” he asked. Remus’s eyes widen.

“Who said anything about love letters?” His accent got thicker when he was drunk, and when he was stressed. At this point he sounded one question away from speaking Welsh.

“You took a drink when Pete said he’d never written a love letter,” Sirius pressed. “Who was it?”

As expected, Remus’s response was incomprehensible. Sirius really needed to learn Welsh one of these days. If only there weren’t so many scary consonants all in a row. Sirius had grown up on French lessons; he was much more comfortable with excessive vowels.

“Lads, Moony’s gone Welsh!” he yelled, steering the taller man back into the living room. James barely stirred from where he was evidently feeling the effects of all the shots he’d been made to do. Peter glanced away from the work of art he was creating on James’s face, then went back to his craft.

“Best tuck him in then, Padfoot,” he advised, squinting at the details of his art project. “I’m for bed once I’ve finished this. I’ll leave Prongs some water and a blanket.

“You’re so good to your subjects,” Sirius said, giving Peter a clumsy head pat as he towed Remus towards his room.

Drinking nights in Sirius and Remus’s shared flat typically ended with someone on the sofa (usually Pete), someone in Sirius’s bed (usually James), and Remus and Sirius in Remus’s bed. They had never really talked about their tendency to drunkenly cuddle, and Sirius never brought it up for fear that Remus would want to stop. A childhood without hugs had turned Sirius into an extremely – some might say inappropriately – tactile person. If he had his way, he would sleep next to someone every night, but it was hard to get the quality of sleepy cuddles he wanted without a commitment. Being roommates was a kind of commitment, he figured, nestling into Remus’s side. It would do until someone managed to hold Sirius’s interest long enough to date.

Remus murmured something else in Welsh and dropped a sleepy kiss on Sirius’s forehead. Sure, Remus probably did that with all of his flings, but it still made Sirius feel secure and loved every time.

* * *

 

As usual after a night of drinking, Sirius woke up alone. Remus’s werewolf constitution meant he either didn’t drink enough to topple his ridiculously high tolerance (Marauders nights being the notable exception), or his body would process the alcohol sufficiently while they slept. Remus liked to refer to it as one of the few perks of his condition. The others viewed it the same way, as it meant they always had hangover breakfasts waiting for them.

“Merlin’s balls, I love you,” Sirius blurted out when he stumbled into the kitchen. A plate of fried egg sandwiches was steaming on the counter next to Remus, who was wearing the novelty “Kiss the Cook” apron James had gotten him for Christmas a few years back.

“Good morning to you too,” Remus said drily, not turning away from the stove. He had been standing too close to the heat, judging by the pink on his cheeks. Sirius didn’t reply, mouth too full of the half sandwich he had crammed into it.

“You’re going to choke,” Remus advised. Sirius managed to swallow enough to get out a reply.

“I’ve had more in my mouth and not choked.” He winked, but the overall effect was probably damaged by the chipmunk pouch of burrito in his cheek. Remus looked away, likely to avoid seeing Sirius chewing. In his defense, hungover Sirius had the table manners of a hippopotamus. As in, anything that fit in his mouth would be eaten, and if you got in between him and what he wanted he was liable to charge.

“Were the others stirring yet?” Remus asked, deftly plating another perfect egg.

“No, James is drooling on the couch and Peter’s tucked up tight in my bed. Probably just enjoying having pillows, bless him.”

“I hope he feels better, after last night. I know they weren’t together long, but being rejected still sucks.”

“Moony, no offence, but what do you know about being rejected?” Sirius snagged another sandwich, a memory from the night before trying to surface through the hangover fog in his mind. “I’m pretty sure you’ve pulled more than the rest of us combined.”

“Right. I’m getting laid, so don’t worry about my feelings.” Remus was clearly trying for sarcasm, but just sounded bitter and a little bit hurt. Sirius, still feeling wrong-footed from the hangover and the nagging sense that he had forgotten something, immediately went on the defensive.

“Hey, don’t snap at me. You’re the one who rejects potential relationships before they even start.”

“Right, of course.” Remus’s voice has gone soft, in the way that means he’s done with the conversation and will be conciliatory until Sirius gets bored and leaves him alone. “I’m the one who doesn’t fall in love.”

The memory from the night before finally slotted into place.

“You’ve written a love letter!” Sirius exclaimed, pointing an accusing sandwich at Remus.

“What on earth makes you say that?” he tried to bluff, but the red on his face gave him away.  

“Oh no you don’t, you slippery Moonbeam. I saw you drink!”

“Maybe I was just drinking.”

“At exactly that point? In a drinking game? I think not!” Sirius was doing his best barrister impression, which would admittedly be better if he didn’t reek of leftover firewhiskey and poor choices.

“What does it matter?” Remus was defensive, and Sirius recognized that he was very close to genuinely upsetting his friend. Of course he couldn’t stop now.

“I want to know who you fancied enough to write a love letter,” he pressed. “We’re mates. I tell you about everyone who catches my eye. Why don’t I know that you’ve been in love?”

“Because you’re an idiot, Sirius,” Remus said flatly. He turned off the burner and slid past Sirius, out of the kitchen. Sirius couldn’t catch his eye on the way out, and was left with far too many thoughts for his hungover brain to handle. 

* * *

 

“It’s got to be someone we know,” Sirius reasoned, idly looping around James. The two had taken their broomsticks out to the countryside for a bit of light flying, and James had barely talked about Lily. Mostly because Sirius wouldn’t stop talking about Remus, and who might have received his love letter.

“You reckon that’s why he won’t say anything?” James asked. “Not because it doesn’t matter if we don’t know them, we’d find a way to introduce ourselves and generally be prats because that’s what we do?”

“We’re not always prats. We were lovely to that girl Pete was with last year.”

“We were terrified of that girl Pete was with last year because she wandlessly jinxed Prewett’s hair off within two minutes of us meeting her.”

“So it’s probably someone we know, OR someone we don’t know but who isn’t terrifying.”

“Your logic knows no bounds.”

“Do you think he’s still in love?” Sirius didn’t like the way that thought made him feel. Much better for Remus to have written a love letter long in the past, to someone who wouldn’t come along and break up their group dynamic.

“It’s either that or he’s too embarrassed about who it was. Think he had a crush on a Slytherin in school?”

“No, Remus is far too decent for that.”

“Peter has dated at least three Slytherins.”

“And Peter has since come to his senses. Remus doesn’t need to be burned to know that a fire is hot.”

“The one wasn’t so bad, the brunette, what was her name?” James yelped as Sirius dove at him for his sudden lack of judgement. No one said nice things about Slytherins on his watch.

Maybe there was an external reason that Peter hadn’t been able to make it work with anyone from Slytherin… Sirius banished all thought of culpability from his brain. He had been helping his mate see the light, is all.

“It would be easier if Remus liked just blokes,” Sirius mused. “Narrow down the suspect list.”

“Or just women,” James offered, and Sirius’s stomach did the unhappy thing again.

“I think I’m hungry, Prongs. Let’s go invite ourselves to Meadows’s, see if she’ll feed us.”

“And help think who Moony might be in love with.”

“Her gossipmongering is mere coincidence,” Sirius said loftily. “I happen to like her scones.” 

* * *

 

Sirius grimaced as he bit into a chunk of unmixed flour in the second scone he was soldiering through. Dorcas beamed at him, and he smiled back weakly.

“So we’re pretty sure it’s someone we know, and is current, because otherwise Remus would tell us,” James summarized, systematically smashing his scone with a fork. His apparent strategy was to attempt a proper mix of the batter on his plate, despite it having already been baked. Sirius was definitely Dorcas’s favorite right now.

“Any idea if it’s male or female?” she asked, clearly all in on their mission of discovery.

“No, no clue,” James grumbled. “He picks up more men, I think, but he says that’s because it’s easier to pull in a gay bar.”

“Well, at least we know it’s not anyone in a relationship.” Both men looked at her in confusion, so she explained. “Remus would never do anything to potentially disrupt a couple like that.”

“Fair point.”

“Unless…” Dorcas paused. “Do we know for sure that he actually sent it?”

James and Sirius had to think. In the end, neither could remember if Remus had said anything one way or the other, so Dorcas sent them away with homework (and a few extra scones for Sirius).

“Try and figure out if he for sure sent it. How would be good too; if he had to post it or if it could be delivered by hand. We’ll work from there.”

* * *

Dorcas had also given them the devilishly clever idea of making Remus think Sirius was the only one concerned about the love letter, allowing others to ask him leading questions without being too suspicious. Thus it was James who plied Remus with Welsh sweets to get him nostalgic, then began waxing poetic about unfulfilled potential.

“It’s like a…” James artfully paused as if searching for a metaphor, when in fact the whole conversation had been leading to this moment. “Like a letter, written but never sent.”

“Why would you write a letter and not send it?” Remus asked.

“Oh, like you’ve never written someone and decided against posting it,” James scoffed. “Lily’s only ever seen a fraction of the letters I’ve written her.”

“Is that because she burned the rest upon receipt?”

“No, because I never sent them! For various reasons. Sometimes they weren’t good enough, or sometimes I was mostly just writing to get things out of my head and onto paper, but not necessarily into her head, you know?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Remus said. “I don’t think I’ve ever written a letter and not delivered it.”

“What do you mean, delivered?” James asked, desperately trying to school his face away from the glee it wanted to show and Remus so neatly segueing into the next topic he wanted to investigate. “Are you an owl?”

“No, I suppose I meant like passing notes, or charming paper to fly to someone, or leaving a note on the counter where someone will see it.”

“Sneaking it into their bag?” James suggested.

“Just the once, with that howler I got into your transfiguration notebook in fourth year.”

From there the pair quickly devolved into prank reminiscence, though James squirreled away every word Remus had said to report back to Sirius. Really, their best friend should know by now that if Sirius is trying to do something, James is trying to help. No secret lasted long when the two put their minds to it.

* * *

 

“And he doesn’t act oddly around anyone? Ever?” Lily had been brought in on the conference, mostly because of her brilliant mind, but also because she was a much better baker than Dorcas. Sirius happily munched on a properly-textured scone as he shook his head.

“So he’s either very good and hiding things, or he’s been in love for a long time,” Dorcas reasoned. Sirius frowned at the thought of Remus pining quietly for years. Despite what the werewolf thought, he deserved to be loved by someone who wouldn’t let him down like that.

“Unless he delivered the letter and got rejected?” Lily patted James on the knee for his contribution, and he beamed.

“Has he ever been unexplainedly sad or distant around anyone?” Dorcas asked. “He doesn’t seem the type to get mad about a rejection.”

“Oh!” Lily clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sirius, I think Remus loves you!”

Sirius’s stomach, ever excitable on the topic of Remus, swooped like he’d just come out of a fifty foot dive on his broomstick. James saved him from having to reconnect his mouth and brain by asking the obvious question.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, in sixth year, he just stopped talking to you for a month! Any time I asked he wouldn’t tell me anything, but he was so sad, like his heart had been broken…” She trailed off because James was shaking his head.

“Pretty sure Padfoot would’ve realized if he had been the one to get the love letter and reject Remus.”

“Anyway,” Sirius managed, aiming for light and missing by a mile, “we definitely know why he was mad at me and it was. Not that.”

Lily looked like she wanted to press, but James once again proved why he was Sirius’s platonic soulmate by changing the subject.

“What else can we do to narrow things down more?” he asked. “Remus never behaves irrationally. So even if he did get rejected – and I suppose he did, or there would have been dating, or something – he hasn’t acted out.”

“Unless it was requited but wouldn’t work out? Or didn’t work out?” Dorcas suggested.

“Why wouldn’t it work out?” Lily asked. James and Sirius shared a glance, confirming they were on the same page about that: there was a big lunar reason a relationship might not work out, but Remus would have definitely reacted noticeably to someone telling him they couldn’t be with a werewolf.

“Maybe incompatible long-term goals, or they moved away?”

“We don’t really know a lot of people who moved away,” James mused. “How about we work on eliminating them?” 

* * *

“You’ll never guess who I thought I saw today,” Sirius announced as he entered the flat. “There was a bloke across the street who was a dead ringer for Caradoc Dearborn. You remember him?”

“Of course I remember him,” Remus said with a fond smile. “Hang your coat up, you savage.”

Sirius ignored the instruction, wanting to stay close to observe Remus’s reactions. Dearborn, a Ravenclaw from the year above them, had been voted the most likely candidate, being the only one of their friends who had moved away that Sirius considered remotely shaggable. The others had offered what they considered to be the more salient points of how compatible Remus and Dearborn were, as they both were rather bookish, jumper-wearing types with a wild sense of humor belied by their appearances. Sirius didn’t think Dearborn would’ve been at all good for Remus (he needed someone to drag him out of his books every now and again), but was investigating due to the aforementioned shaggability. Though he did think it would be strange for Remus to be in love with a man so similar to him in build and hair color.

“Where is Dearborn now, anyway?” he asked, trying to steal a bit of carrot off the cutting board. As usual, Remus’s reflexes were much better than his own, and Sirius retracted his slapped hand.

“I believe he’s still in India,” Remus replied distractedly, skimming one elegant finger down his recipe page. Sirius always intended to learn to cook, but it was so much more interesting to watch Remus do it.

“Shame he moved away, yeah?” Sirius tried. He was about as subtle as a cliché, so he decided to just embrace that. “He was right fit.”

“I suppose he was,” Remus demurred. “But he’s quite happy. Loves his job. Accidentally adopted a dog.”

“You still talk to him?”

“We write, sometimes.” Remus was still primarily focused on his cooking, which Sirius was decidedly interpreting to mean Dearborn was not the love letter recipient. Still, Dorcas had instructed him to be thorough.

“Any chance he’ll come through London sometime?” He grinned lasciviously. “Might be nice to see what he looks like on this side of twenty.”

“You could just try and find the bloke you saw today,” Remus’s suggestion was a bit strained.

“There’s something to be said about hooking up with an old school pal now that we’re adults, though,” he countered. “And Dearborn is a prime candidate for that.” This did get Remus’s attention, earning a direct look in the eye.

“Fancy him, do you?” The Welsh lilt was strong. Was Remus stressed by the idea of his love being pursued by someone else?

“I do like an intelligent man,” Sirius said broadly, determined to play this out. “Probably keeps a book on the nightstand and another by the sofa. Not to mention he was a prefect. I always used to daydream about a rather atypical detention, if you know what I mean.”

Remus was frowning deeply and stirring the pan with rather more force than it required. Sirius decided to make one last push, unwilling to be right.

“Hell, if you have his address, maybe I should write to him. Invite him to London myself, see how things go. Wouldn’t mind getting my fingers into that beautiful hair of his. Or I could go with James next time he goes to India, what part did you say Dearborn is in?”

The wooden spoon in Remus’s hand snapped.

“I’m trying to cook, Sirius, kindly get out of my kitchen.” His voice was level, but years of experience told Sirius how frayed Remus’s temper actually was. He left the kitchen without another word. After all, he had gotten what he’d come for.

Moving Remus’s sofa book – honestly, the man had at least one book in every room of the flat, Sirius had no idea how he kept them all straight in his head – Sirius sat, wondering why he didn’t feel more triumphant. He’d been wanting to know who Moony loved, and those reactions pretty clearly indicated Dearborn. Maybe he’d feel better once he had talked to the rest of the group. 

* * *

“Poor Moony,” Peter sighed, still a bit lovelorn himself. “Dearborn’s been away for years.” Peter had been invited to the latest conference mostly because James realized he was being left out and felt bad. Sirius was vaguely aware that he should be ashamed for not noticing.

“They must not be dating,” Lily reasoned. “Look at how often Moony goes out. I don’t think he’s the type to cheat.”

“But he can’t fall in love with anyone else because his heart is still hung up on Dearborn,” James said, clearly overwhelmed by the tragedy of the whole situation. Sometimes it was very clear how many Bollywood movies he had watched growing up.

“So do we try to reunite them?” Sirius asked. “Or get him over Dearborn so he can move on?” For some reason, neither option made his fickle stomach happy.

“Probably get over him,” Dorcas decided. “Dearborn may be in India permanently, and it’s not like we want Remus to move.”

Sirius almost laughed at the idea of Remus, raised in dew and fog and rolling hills, trying to survive in a hot, crowded Indian city. Content that his friend wouldn’t abandon him for warmer climes, he tuned in to the latest strategy.

* * *

 “There are just so many factors,” Lily groaned, barely having to act more frustrated than she was. The job offer had come at a perfect time to use in Operation: Get Remus Over Dearborn (no, not like that, James, stop snickering).

“We could make a pro-con list,” Remus suggested, setting down his tea and fetching a pen and paper. Lily loved his no-nonsense attitude, and had come to rely on him as a solid adviser during their time together as prefects.

“Well, pro, it’s obviously an amazing opportunity and I would learn a lot and it would be a huge career boost,” she listed, still amazed that she had been selected for an international healing internship she had applied to on a whim.

“Got it. Cons?”

“It’s very sudden – I’d have to leave next month – and I’d be away for a whole year.”

“You were trying to get a new job anyway, and your flatmates can sublet your room or something,” her voice of reason pointed out. “What’s keeping you here?”

“All my friends are here,” she said. “And James. Our relationship is still so new, you know?”

“You’ve been together for, what, six months?” he asked.

“Five and a half.”

“And you’re worried that being apart will damage that.”

“What if I don’t have time to write? What if he feels like I’m abandoning him? What if he meets someone else while I’m gone? Long distance is so hard!”

“First of all, I doubt anyone is going to turn his head if no one has managed so far.” Remus looked like he was fighting back a laugh, and Lily did not appreciate it. He got himself under control and continued. “Second, long distance is hard, but so is any relationship. Staying here isn’t going to make anything perfect.”

“Still, leaving the country after only six months of dating, that’s…”

“Following your dreams?” Remus suggested. “I can’t imagine purporting to love someone and then asking them to give up on their passion. And I can’t imagine loving someone so much that I’d be able to give up an opportunity like this without a single moment of regret or resentment.”

“You think I should go,” Lily realized.

“I think you’ve been offered an incredible opportunity and haven’t given me any real reasons you might have for turning it down.”

“Should I break up with James, then? What would you do?”

“I think I would give things a chance.” Remus was staring into the distance, and Lily wondered if he was thinking about how things had gone with Dearborn. “You have a good thing right now. No sense in throwing it away because of a tiny chance that it won’t work out; every relationship always has that chance, so if that’s your logic no one should ever date.”

“What if I decide to move away permanently? And James doesn’t want to live where I am?”

“That’s different, I suppose, and a bridge to cross when you get there.” Frustrated by Remus’s implacability, Lily pushed harder.

“You don’t think we’d both just have to accept that the things we wanted were incompatible, and move on?”

“That’s one path you could take.”

“Well it’s better than sitting around pining forever.”

“Yes,” Remus smiled bitterly. “I suppose it is.”

* * *

“I’m just not sure if he’s pining because he and Dearborn knew they wouldn’t work out, or because his feelings were never reciprocated in the first place,” Lily concluded.

“You think he might need closure?” Molly asked. Sirius was unsure how all three Prewett siblings had ended up here, especially since only Molly seemed interested in actually helping with the Remus/Dearborn situation. Gideon had suggested kidnapping the pair and locking them in a cupboard to see what happened, while Fabian was firmly of the opinion that Remus had never been in love with Dearborn in the first place. His candidates for love letter recipient included: Bathilda Bagshot, the prominent historian; the barista who had made him a hot chocolate he spent most of seventh year complaining about ruining him for all other hot chocolate; the Hogwarts library; and all tea plants (“an open letter, so none of them feel left out”).

“Why would he still be pining over someone who rejected him?” Gideon asked. “What’s the point of loving someone who doesn’t love you back?”

“Love isn’t an exchange, you philistine!” James scolded. He was clearly gearing up for a passionate speech, but fortunately Lily cut him off – probably because she knew the speech would be primarily about herself.

“Feelings aren’t that logical,” she explained. “If he’s still caught up on Dearborn, it’s probably the idea of what could have been more than the actual person by now.”

“So we need to find out for sure if Dearborn returned Lupin’s feelings,” Dorcas decided. She had drawn posters showing all of their steps and discoveries so far. Peter had helpfully illustrated them, though during the meeting Fabian had charmed two of the illustrations to do lewd things to each other, finally making Molly burn a hole in the paper so several members of the conference would stop giggling and pay attention. Sirius had a feeling Fabian would, at some point in the future, unexpectedly and dearly pay for damaging Dorcas’s work, as she was by this point almost as invested in the project as Sirius was. Sirius was growing increasingly uncomfortable with all the sudden interest in Moony’s love life (it was fine when the other Marauders did it, but no one else was supposed to be allowed to get too close). At least the posters were helpful.

* * *

 “We should play a game,” James slurred, listing slightly in his chair.

“I have Uno,” Remus suggested. He had switched to cola relatively early in the night, and appeared nearly sober. Sirius hoped it wasn’t because he had another secret he was worried about unveiling.

“Moony doesn’t get to pick,” James said sulkily. “It’s his fault Lily left.”

“You mean it’s my fault your girlfriend is having an incredible life experience which will teach her invaluable information about her craft and the world at large?” Remus asked mildly. “You’re welcome.”

“It is a really cool program she’s doing,” Peter chimed in. James glared at him.

“Traitor! In my own home!”

“Prongs, you don’t live here.”

“In my own cheering up do!”

“Fine, Lily should stay forever by your side as a devoted slave.” Peter smirked, whipping out his infamous drunk sarcasm.

“Lily is an incredible and independent woman who should seize every opportunity the world rightfully puts at her feet!” James shouted.

“Never have I ever been confused by Wormtail’s sarcasm,” Sirius drawled. The plan had been for Peter to introduce the game, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Fortunately, the other three rolled with the new plan.

“Never have I ever stuck my entire face into a chocolate fountain,” James retorted. Remus was outvoted and made to have a shot even though his face had been pushed into the fountain rather than placed intentionally. James reasoned that putting your face that near to something messy when Sirius Black is next to you is tantamount to putting your own face in said messy thing.

“Never have I ever wanted to play this game,” Remus griped, but refilled his shot glass all the same.

“Never have I ever been caught _in flagrante delicto_ with the same person in two different apartments,” Sirius teased, going with the plan of targeting Remus so he would be too buzzed to be suspicious when the major question came up.

“Never have I ever yelled at a teacher in another language after being woken up in class,” Peter said, getting all three of the others.

“Never have I ever written three feet of parchment on the wrong subject,” James countered. Sirius smirked, still refusing to feel guilty about giving Remus and Peter the wrong notes.

“Never have I ever written an essay on the wrong subject that was so good the teacher gave me full marks anyway,” Peter said, and Remus toasted with his shot before downing it.

“Never have I ever touched the giant squid.” This was said with a touch of envy, as Sirius had never managed to get too close to the creature during their time at school, though the other three had.

“Never have I ever been to Asia,” was Remus’s weak contribution, and Sirius judged it to be time for The Question. He nodded at Peter, who blessedly picked up on it without blowing the whole game.

“Never have I ever gotten a love letter,” he said, a touch too dramatically. Only Sirius drank.

“Never have I ever gotten a positive response to a love letter I wrote,” James added with a self-deprecating smirk. None of them drank, making James try (and fail) to subtly wink at Sirius.

“Prongs what’s wrong with your face?” Remus asked.

“Nothing more than usual,” Peter cut in.

“If by that you mean it’s perfect, then yes!” James said loftily.

“Perfectly disgusting.”

The other three bickered contentedly, but Sirius was as deep in thought as he was in his cups – a dangerous combination. Sure, James needed a cheering up do because his girlfriend had just left the country for a year, and Peter got one any time he got dumped. But Remus had fallen in love, been rejected, and was now pining for someone who had moved to the other side of the world, and they’d done nothing to cheer him up. This wasn’t right, as Sirius was firmly of the belief that Remus deserved only the best the world could offer.

Remus deserved to be loved, by someone who knew him and appreciated him properly. Someone who liked the way he left books everywhere, and wore his hair longish because he was too lazy to get a regular haircut, and hummed while he cooked but only if he thought no one was in the room, and hated needing help but would trust his close friends to offer it without making him ask, and sometimes got too far into his head and needed to be pounced on by a friendly dog to goad him into laughing again, and oh wow Sirius definitely loved Remus Lupin.

Like all quality drunken realizations, it made perfect sense and had been blindingly obvious for some time. No wonder Sirius had never properly had a relationship; he got everything he wanted emotionally from Moony, and only ever looked at other people when he was feeling a need for physical intimacy. The pair were practically already dating – living together, going on planned outings, automatically adjusting the little parts of their lives to accommodate the other’s needs – the only aspect missing was physical. Sirius suddenly understood his constant desire to touch Remus, sit close to him on the sofa, lean on him while he’s cooking, run a hand through his hair while he’s reading.

Also like all quality drunken realizations, Sirius’s discovery of his love led to a potentially inadvisable action. He decided to write a love letter. Making his excuses to the group, he managed to get set up with a pen and paper at his desk (bless Remus’s half-muggle self for insisting on the handy little things, meaning drunk Sirius did not have to contend with an inkpot). It wasn’t until he’s gotten all settled that Sirius realized he had no idea how to write a love letter.

James had certainly written plenty of love letters in his time. He would probably start with a flowery salutation, some compliments, a profession of feeling and need and devotion, and a surprisingly simple but heartfelt sign off.

               _My dearest most brilliant Moonbeam,_

_As I was contemplating your luscious hair and honey eyes, I was struck anew by your beauty and calm intelligence. Even when you’ve had a whole bottle of firewhisky you still manage to talk circles around all of us. I love the way your nose crinkles when you laugh, and I think I’ll die if I don’t get to wake up to you every morning for the rest of my life._

_All my love, Sirius_

As soon as he’d finished signing his name, Sirius crumpled up the page and threw it in the bin. Lily hated the way James wrote, and Remus was sensible like she was. Then again, James’s strategy had eventually worked, so Sirius retrieved the note from the bin to keep in reserve, just in case.

Peter, serial monogamist that he was, had certainly written a handful of love notes in his time. Mostly during school, he would sometimes be caught scribbling surprisingly direct and occasionally filthy missives on what was supposed to be his homework.

                _Moony, I wanted to write to the hottest bloke I know and immediately thought of you. You’re wearing that green jumper today, and I love that you feel so comfortable in something I gave you. Not to mention that every time you wear it, you exhibit what excellent taste I have, in clothing and in men. You’d complain that I was wrinkling the knit if I grabbed the front of it but I bet I could get you to stop worrying…_

Sirius frowned. This letter couldn’t exactly be considered a confession of LOVE, and now his imagination was going wild. Finally, a solution came to him.

Remus had never shown them any of his love letters, but Sirius had received hundreds of letters from him over the years. Certainly enough to extrapolate.

                _Moony,_

_I was astonished to realize just today that I love you. I’ve never met anyone who captures my attention the way you do, and perhaps the reason I’ve always been frustrated at your insistence that you don’t deserve love is because it’s so fundamentally opposed to something that is as much a part of my personality as my incredible wit or “insufferably posh accent.” I think I must have loved you for most of the time we’ve known each other, because you’re always steadfast, cool-headed, brilliant, and surprising in the best way. You make me want to be the best version of myself that I can be, just by believing that I can be better. Our friendship is one of the best things that has ever happened to me, and even if you don’t love me the way I love you, at least I know that we will always be in each other’s lives._

_Yours, Padfoot_

In the early years, Remus had always signed his notes with some kind of pithy adverb, saying ‘soakingly yours’ on letters bemoaning the weather or ‘reluctantly yours’ on a note scolding Sirius for a prank gone awry. Around fifth year, it changed to ‘yours’ and had stayed that way ever since. Sirius had toyed with the idea of ‘lovingly’ or ‘devotedly yours’ or some such nonsense, but ultimately decided the plain sentiment was clear enough. Remus was smart enough to infer the rest.

“I thought you had gone to bed.” A soft voice from the door startled Sirius from his proud contemplation of his note. He brightened upon seeing the intended recipient hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

“Moony! I was just thinking about you. Are you going to sleep?”

“I was, yes,” Remus half-turned towards his own room, clearly uncertain. Sirius dimly realized that, while he was drunk enough for a normal bed sharing night, Remus was nearly sober. Naturally, he did the first thing he could think of to ensure that he would still get his cuddles. Remus looked startled to be grabbed by the wrist and dragged to Sirius’s bed, but went along willingly enough.

“I wrote you a letter,” Sirius told him, clumsily settling them both in to sleep. “You c’n do better than someone who doesn’t appreciate you enough not to move to India.”

“What?” Remus sounded wholly confused, but Sirius was already drifting off. He’d explain in the morning. 

* * *

 

Morning came earlier than expected, as Sirius had evidently sobered up enough during letter writing to avoid the massive hangover he’d been expecting. Remus, as usual, had gotten up first, though his side of the bed was still warm. Sirius’s stomach went all happy when he saw Remus sat in his desk chair, staring at his hands. Then Sirius’s brain reminded everyone that the desk contained the love letter drunk Sirius had written, and his stomach churned violently.

“Morning?” he croaked, but Remus didn’t look at him.

“You told me last night that you’d written me a letter.” The sentence was difficult to parse, as Remus was speaking quietly and his accent was thick. “I thought I’d have a look.”

“Yeah, I, er. The delivery could have gone more smoothly.”

“You wrote me a love letter.”

“I did.”

“Why?” Remus finally looked up, face more guarded than Sirius had seen it since the boys had told him they knew he was a werewolf.

“Because I love you,” Sirius replied without thinking, then immediately wanted to put a permanent sticking charm on his traitorous lips to keep them together.

“As a friend,” Remus tried to clarify. Sirius sighed, recognizing the need to come clean.

“As an admirer.”

“Because you were sad I’d never gotten a love letter even though I’ve sent one.”

“No, you arse, because I love you! Didn’t you read it?”

Remus was quiet for a moment, staring at Sirius like he was waiting for James and Peter to jump out and yell "gotcha!”

“You love me,” he finally said, still in a monotone.

“I do.”

“Not just as a friend.”

“Definitely not just as a friend.”

“So, what, you want to date me?”

“I would not be opposed.” Sirius heard himself getting more formal in response to Remus’s emotionlessness. It wasn’t exactly the reception he’d hoped for when he wrote the letter.

“Even though I’m a werewolf. And a know-it-all. And a bookworm. And a gangly, jumper-wearing, boring homebody.”

“Look, if you’re not into it, you don’t have to try and talk me out of it,” Sirius snapped. “Don’t hurt yourself trying to wriggle out of this. I get it, you don’t feel the same. So we’ll just be friends and maybe I’ll always love you but nothing has to be different.” There was a distinct note of panicked pleading at the end of his little rant, and that seemed to finally get through Remus’s non-reactive shell.

“Padfoot,” he murmured, crossing to sit at the foot of the bed. Sirius didn’t know if being so close would make the rejection easier or harder. Remus let him stew for a minute, apparently gathering his thoughts.

“You signed the letter with ‘yours,’” he said eventually. He hadn’t put the letter down, and was still staring at it rather than Sirius.

“I was thinking about how you write letters, and that seemed the most honest,” Sirius admitted.

“So you know that’s what I mean every time I sign a letter to you?” Remus chose that moment to make eye contact, which Sirius felt was rather unfortunate as he was gaping quite unattractively.

“You’ve been signing letters to me like that for years,” he protested.

“It’s been true for years,” Remus admitted.

“So when you said you’d written a love letter…”

“If you want to get technical, everything I’ve written you since about fifth year has been a love letter.”

“You absolute twat,” Sirius growled, launching himself across the bed. Remus caught him, and the two tangled together in a hug that was just like all the others they had shared but somehow also completely new.

“Your absolute twat,” Remus whispered, and Sirius could barely kiss him properly from how much they couldn't stop smiling.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember where this idea came from but I thought I'd work on it instead of real life responsibilities, so it was written mostly too late at night and hasn't been thoroughly proofread. 
> 
> Mostly unrelated: a fun alternative to Never Have I Ever is I Once, where everyone gets to talk about unique things they've done (obviously barring things that no one else could have done, like grow up in their family). It's a fantastic way to hear ridiculous stories that might not come up otherwise, like how one friend broke a car door, was offered a blowjob in exchange for meth, and reported his car stolen all in one night, or how another friend accidentally broke a state high school track and field record while playing around.


End file.
